Oh, Little Mutt
by iamselena
Summary: Short, humorous oneshots that revolve around Mutt, his crazy antics and his loving family. ::Chapter Ten- "Look, Daddy. I'm you.":: COMPLETED
1. Welcome to the World, Mutt

**AN: **I so friggin' love this idea of mine! I have two other stories, _**A Page from a Woman's Diary**_ and _**My Jackass of a Husband**_ (both are oneshots and still in need of work) that are sorta related to this story. I've kept getting comments and reviews that say that I write the relationship between little Mutt and Indy, and Indy and Marion really well. I've experienced writing Indy as a father in my story, _**Idiot to Love**_, and I must admit I am having fun writing their dialogues. So here's the result for everyone who wants more of Mutt and Indiana together!

But most of all, I really want to thank _**Ellen**_, an anonymous reviewer in my stories, since you're the one who gave me the idea of writing this. You said you want more of stories with Mutt and Indy in it, right? Here you go, girl! Thanks a whole bunch! This one is totally dedicated to you!

As always, I don't own anything here, people, except the plot. I just borrow. Yeah, borrow.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**He Looks Just Like You, Indy."**

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**July, 1938**

"_Indiana Jones!"_

I cringed at the sound of my wife's voice echoing through the hall. Though I should've been relieved. She is in no condition to hurt me physically or even to hold a frying pan, since she's giving birth right this instant.

Yeah, I know.

Me? A father? Damn.

"_Indy! I swear, after I'm through with this, we are not going to have sex for a year!"_ Marion stopped to groan in pain. I blushed as the guests chuckled and threw me knowing looks. I ran my hand through my already unruly hair in an act of nervousness.

"First time?" a man asked as he sat beside me.

"First time?" I repeated, as if he was speaking some foreign language.

He laughed. "Being a dad." He nodded towards Marion's room; her agonized cries evident even from outside the closed door. "Looks like she's in so much pain," he added sympathetically.

I grimaced. "Yeah." My hand was unsteady as reached for the water jug underneath my chair. In truth, I was worried about Marion's safety more than anything. And of course, the safety of my soon-to-be son or daughter. Judging from noise she's making, she's in extreme pain.

"Of course she's in pain," came a familiar voice. I looked up, startled, and felt my tension ebb as I recognize my father's smiling face. He patted my shoulder comfortingly, and I realized he understood the pain I'm going through. "As your mother said to me just as she was giving birth to you, 'it was like forcing a basketball through a golf hole'. But she was fine."

"Great," I groaned, and covered my face with my hands. "Marion's going to kill me!"

"_INDY!"_ I closed my eyes, hoping to wash Marion's distressed cries. I could also hear the faint chant of 'push, push, push' inside the room, but I couldn't be too sure when it was drowned by Marion crying out for my name. _"INDIANA JONES!"_

"Indy!" It was Harold Oxley. He was red, sweaty, and was wearing an old-fashioned suit. He stopped in front of me, worry evident in his eyes. I felt my heart go with him. He and Marion had always been close since she was a teenager, and after Abner died, Oxley stepped in the role of a loving father. "How is she?" Harold asked anxiously, glancing at the door.

I gulped. "Don't know. She's ready to give birth anytime right now, but all I could hear are threats that are out to kill me—"

"_JONES! YOU ARE SO DEAD!"_

I raised my eyes at Harold, who appeared relieved a bit. "See what I mean?" I murmured. "Is she dying of extreme pain?"

Dad laughed out loud. "It seems that way," he agreed, probably remembering my mother. "I couldn't touch your mother after that. I was afraid of getting her pregnant again, and she would have to go through all this again!"

I opened my mouth to retort, but at that moment, I heard _**it**_.

A cry.

I didn't know why, but I felt as if my world stopped. My heart started to beat fast, and my hands felt clammy. I could hear voices, but they sounded a bit distant. My mind wasn't working properly, and my body felt like Jell-O.

"Mr. Jones."

Harold and my father nudged me. I looked up and registered the face of the doctor who was with Marion during this whole ordeal, and I immediately stood up. I wanted to ask my wife's condition, but my throat wouldn't work.

The doctor seemed to understand it. "She's in there." He smiled warmly at me. "And congratulations! You have a son."

A son.

I felt dizzy.

My son.

"Go, Junior," I heard my father say, pushing me forward the room. "Ox and I will visit later." He was grinning like a Cheshire cat.

I walked. If I did, I didn't notice. I was too caught up at the scene that I know I'll remember throughout the rest of my life. Marion, propped against a stack of comfy pillows, smiling like she won the lottery.

And beside her was the most handsome baby in the world.

Her face instantly lighted up at the sight of me, and she beckoned me towards her. "Hey there," Marion breathed in, turning up her face for a kiss. I gladly complied, putting everything I'm feeling in that simple kiss. Gratitude, adoration, but most of all, love.

"Hey," I replied, after we parted. "I heard you want me to meet someone." I stared at the boy resting against her. **Our** son. I sounded silly, but I didn't know what to say. I felt so giddy and excited. And it must've shown on my face, because Marion laughed.

"Indy, meet Henry Jones the Third," she said, waiting for my reaction.

"What?" The word flew out of my mouth.

Marion's eyes were laughing, but her voice sounded stern. "Yeah. Have a problem with that, Jones?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. "I've been in labor for the past six hours, gave birth to a perfectly healthy baby boy, and you have a complaint against his name?"

The baby—no, Henry Junior _**Junior**_—yawned.

I sighed, giving into temptation. Another Jones, huh? I thought amusedly. Marion tucked Baby Henry in my arms and said, "Nope. Haven't got a problem with that sweetheart."

Marion smiled. She peered in and gave a mock groan. "He looks just like you, Indy," she commented.

Heck, if this baby's really mine, he'll change his name soon enough. Henry wasn't just that cool.

I dropped a kiss on top of our baby's forehead. "Welcome to the world, Henry Jones Junior _**Junior**_," I proclaimed proudly. I kissed Marion on the lips again, whispering, "Thank you so much for giving me everything I wanted and more."

Later, after Dad and Oxley (both men cried at the sight of **our** son, though they tried to hide it) saw Henry, Marion fell asleep and I sat beside her, watching over her and Little Henry.

"I promise I'll be the best Daddy you could ever have," I whispered, stroking Henry's soft cheek.

And he yawned, as if he agreed.

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PS.** I'm planning on a ten-chapter fic, but ideas may add up. Yeah. And the first one is done! Isn't it adorable? Oh, and this isn't connected to the original plot of the Indiana Jones series. This is another what-if I've conjured up. What if Indy was there for Mutt right from the start? The chapter may not be as long as the one in _**Idiot to Love**_ (I updated!), but it'll sure keep you guys entertained. If you have any suggestions or comments, simply press the middle button after this message. Love you guys!


	2. 4 AM

**AN:** I got trouble updating this story a while back, since had a technical problem regarding login and making a review. But, hey, it worked this time! Cheers, everybody! I missed this!

As always, I don't own Indiana Jones or the characters involved. George Lucas and Steven Spielberg are the geniuses behind everything.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**They Don't Come with a Snooze Button, Indy."**

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Being new parents was a path Indiana Jones and Marion Ravenwood (well, now Marion **Jones**) hasn't taken yet. But that was reciprocated quickly by the birth of their son, Henry Jones the Third.

Both Indy and Marion relish the feeling of being parents, always hovering around Henry's crib. The baby was a delight, always laughing and gurgling. Grandpa Henry and Oxley were doting grandparents every grandchild dreamed of having. A week after Baby Henry was discharged with his happy mother; he was brandished with a room full of toys.

"But he hasn't even learned how to sit, let alone play with… everything you guys bought," Marion told both professors, who were sitting guiltily on the couch. "You simply wasted money."

"Yeah, Dad," Indy agreed, glancing at his son's nursery. Stuffed toys, baby clothes, pillows, blankets, bottles, baby bags, bibs, cribs, strollers… it was as if they had bought the whole store! "But to be honest, you guys outdid yourselves," he said with a chuckle. "It looks like a Baby Wonderland!"

Oxley laughed.

Marion shot him a withering look. "Indy," she warned. "Don't encourage them."

Indy grimaced. "But you shouldn't have wasted everything on Henry," he quickly corrected himself. "It's not like he's going to use everything all at once."

His father gave a loud sigh. "Junior, Marion, allow us to spoil our first grandchild," he said with a sniff. "Junior here had me waiting for a grandkid since he was eighteen, and I had to wait years before that happened! Waiting," he added, "I tell you, is something I don't like. I'm not growing any younger, you know!"

Marion and Indy blushed.

So there he was. Henry Jones the Third. Basked under the adoration of his grandparents and parents. But of course, caring for a baby isn't a trip through the park. In the morning, Henry is a happy, chubby baby. Always laughing and eating. However, when night comes, Henry turns into a screaming banshee bound to terrorize you in your sleep.

**X**

"_Waaaah!"_

With a groan, Marion nudged Indiana with her foot. It was the fifth time that night Henry had disturbed them in their sleep. His crib was beside their bed, so that they had access to him quickly.

"_Waaaaaaaah!"_

"Indy, it's your turn…" Marion mumbled, drowning her son's cries beneath a plump pillow.

"M'kay…" came Indiana's groggy answer.

But:

"_**Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"**_

Marion, perturbed why Henry's cries weren't yet shushed, got up and turned the lamp on. Even after having been woken up five times since midnight, she had to smile at the sight.

Indy was obviously trying to find a way to silent Henry, but not in the way he imagined. "Where's the damned snooze button?" he mumbled, half-asleep and half-awake.

Marion sighed. "They don't come with a snooze button, Indy," she said wryly.

"_WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!"_

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PS:** And there you go! Oneshot number two! I really love making these stories. They're so fun to make! And I'm itching to write about how Mutt changed his name into… well, Mutt. That'll be at the next chapter. I know it's short, but I warned you guys. Hope you like it, despite the length. Love you all! Hope you guys press the button in the middle of the page… (Hint! Hint!)

**THANKS TO: _rylee, telly, noukinav018_**_**, rabid-squirell-3**_ and _**Ellen**_for the reviews_**! :] YOU GUYS ROCK MY WORLD!**_


	3. Indiana Jones Junior?

**AN: **I am really having a blast writing this. Especially the dialogues. I'm glad you guys liked the "They don't come with a snooze button, Indy." line. The line was actually inspired (and came) from a comic. It was so cute, so I decided to include it, since it was funny.

Enough chit-chat. Number three's quite long, so let's get started. I don't own anything here. Sorry. Boo-hoo for me.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**Like Father, Like Son!"**

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**Mid-June, 1942**

I am having a crisis.

It's nearly Henry's birthday, and I still haven't decided what to give him. Who says that being a parent is an easy job? Anyway, Marion already decided that the birthday party she's planning was enough, and that she doesn't have any more money to splurge on.

Yeah, leave the daddy to think about the problem.

"Still thinking about it?" Marion placed a hand on my shoulder, and I smiled up at her, meeting her lips for a kiss. Ah, the perks of having a wife.

"Yeah." She sat beside me on the porch of our home, our usual thinking spot where we talk about everything under the sun, at the same time, watching over Henry. "I don't know what to give him."

She smiled. "Just give him whatever makes him happy," she suggested, wiping her hands with the towel.

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah. He'll ask me to buy a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, since he's obsessed with those things, and then I'll just go buy him one."

She swapped me with the towel. "You're so sarcastic." She looked thoughtful. She knew that this is important for me. Marion knew for a fact that I'll do anything to make our son happy, which is the same for her. We don't spoil him, because his Grandpa Henry and Oxley do all the work. She smiled. "Don't worry. We'll think of something."

And the idea came to me that afternoon.

Henry just came home from his friend's house across the street, all down in the dumps. The pouty face and silence are pretty good indications that our boy's not in a good mood.

I cornered him on the porch, where he was sitting quietly. "Hey, sport," I greeted him, handing him a glass of orange juice. "What's wrong? You're awfully quiet."

Henry nudged a stone with the tip of his sneaker. "Nothing," he answered glumly, taking a sip of orange juice.

Okay. Nothing. I tried another approach. "Hey, kiddo?"

"Yeah?"

"What would you like for your birthday?" Maybe that'll cheer him up. He sure likes talking about his birthday party for the past week.

He looked up to me, his eyes narrowing on me. "Anything?" he asked, his brow burrowing in the middle.

Anything? "Well," I tried to concede, "if it's within reason. And if it doesn't cost a lot of money."

Henry nodded enthusiastically. "I know what I want," he yelled, his smile returning back to his cute face. I grinned.

"Okay, what is it then?" I asked pleasantly, thinking that it would probably a toy car or motorcycles. The boy's addicted to it.

He beamed. "I want a baby brother," he announced gaily, looking up at me expectantly.

"Oh, sure—**wait** **a minute**!" I gaped at him, trying to decipher the words he said. "You want _what_?"

"A baby brother," he repeated, as if it was the most ordinary thing in the world.

Okay, backtrack. I looked at him as if he'd gone crazy. And what the hell do four-year-olds know about babies, anyway? "Why?"

Henry's shoulders slumped. "Because I'm lonely," he answered, looking very much sad. I felt my heart ache. "Dad, Josh didn't want to play because he has to take care of his little brother. I want a baby brother." He looked up, his face brightening at his ingenious idea. "You and Mommy could make me one!"

_Beep._

I flushed red, thinking about the process on how to make a baby. My mind started to wander, wandering to all sorts of places…

"Dad?"

… to **desirable** places. I shifted in my seat, trying to look comfortable. Damn. Where is Marion?

"Where do babies come from?" Henry was smiling innocently. He'd better be innocent, or else he's in so much trouble. "How did you and Mom make me? I was a baby before, right?"

"How did Marion and I make you…?" My voice trailed off, and I swear I could feel my face heating up. "It's not important, son."

He frowned. "So, can I have a baby brother?"

"Absolutely not, kiddo. Not now." Damn. He's in so much trouble. If Marion hears this, she's going to go berserk.

"Why not?" Henry asked petulantly. He stood up. "If you don't want to make one, then I'll make one!"

"…"

I sat there, staring at my soon-to-be four-year-old son, speechless and totally incapable of uttering a single sound. "…make?" I choked on the word. WhatdoIdo? WhatdoIdo? I asked myself, trying hard not to panic. Oh, I know! "Marion!" I hollered. "Come out here!"

A minute later, Marion came out, holding a spatula in her hand. "What's the matter?" she asked. "Hey, Henry. You've come home early."

"I hate my name," our boy said, crossing his arms. "It's so stupid. Most of my friends tease me. I want to have a new name."

I distinctly heard Marion utter, "So what's new there?" before asking, "What's the problem here?" she asked. "I'm cooking some pancakes."

"Kiddo, tell your Mom what you wanted for your birthday," I prompted him, watching Marion's reaction.

Henry took a deep breath. "I want a baby brother for my birthday, but Daddy doesn't want to make one," he announced. As expected, Marion's jaw dropped at the news. "And since Daddy doesn't want to make one, **I'm** going to make one!"

Marion turned to me. "Make one?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

I laughed uneasily.

Her eyes narrowed a fraction. How'd she do that? "You didn't teach him the facts of life yet, Indy? Right?"

"Of course not!"

She looked at Henry. "Henry, babies aren't that easy to make." She paused, then added, "Well, they are. But they're hard to look after. And besides, you are much, **much** too young to, uh, make one, honey."

I laughed throatily. Marion threw me a Look. I immediately clamped up.

Henry's lip wobbled. "I really wanted a baby around the house," he sniffed, "'cause I'm real lonely—"

And it suddenly clicked! I jumped to my feet and ran down the street, waving as I went. "I have to go do something!" I shouted, before Marion could ask.

"Daddy, are you going to make a baby right now?" Henry asked excitedly, jumping up and down the porch.

Marion's eyes narrowed into slits, and she covered our son's ears before saying, "Indy, hook up with some P-R-O-S-T-I-T-U-T-E and you'll never enter this house ever again." She spelled the word 'prostitute' so that Henry wouldn't hear it. As a three-year-old going on four, our son's pretty smart.

I grinned. "Oh, sweetheart, you know that'll never happen." And it won't. Not if I value my life. "I'll be back later, okay?" I started to sprint down the road, stopped short and hollered, "Hey, how about a date to make a baby later?"

I laughed when Marion turned bright red.

**X**

**A day after Mutt's Birthday**

Marion celebrated my birthday with a simple party with a few of our closest friends. Brody managed to break away from his busy schedule, and we drank until dawn. It was great.

Now, it was Mutt's turn.

…huh?

What's wrong?

Oh, you're wondering who in the world is Mutt. Yeah. Mutt's Henry Jones the Third.

Confused?

Okay. It was his birthday. And remember when he was complaining that he was lonely? Well, since Marion and I couldn't have a baby at once (but we did try… sort of), I decided to do the next best thing.

No, not adoption.

I went to the shelter and began to hunt for a cute puppy. Yeah. My son's getting a cute, little puppy. A best friend. Someone he could play with and have fun. See? Instant brotherhood, minus the four in the morning feedings and cries for the parents.

About an hour before the party, I brought the pup— a cute golden retriever—and tied a bright red bow around his neck. I got everything my son would need to take care of his new friend: a leash, two bowls, shampoo and soap. I decided we would build a dog house after things settled down. In the meantime, the dog would sleep with him in his bedroom.

I was confident Henry would like my present.

But I forgot one thing.

Marion.

As soon as I presented the pup, two things happened:

Henry's eyes widened at the sight, and ran towards the puppy, yelling, "A puppy! A puppy! A puppy!" The dog immediately began barking and licked Henry all over the face. See? Instant friendship.

Then Marion tapped my shoulder. "Jones?" she said sweetly.

A little too sweetly.

"Yeah, honey?" I dared to turn around and met her Killer Gaze. Gulp.

"You do know how hard it is to take care of a kid, right?" she asked me in that sugary sweet voice she uses every time when her temper is thinning out.

I nodded. I would've said something sarcastic, but I value my life. Do you know the art of pan wielding? No? Well, Marion mastered it at a very young age, and she used it a couple of times against men. Nazis, even.

"Then how do you figure taking care of a puppy?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but Henry launched himself between his mother and I, a huge grin lighting up his face. "Thank you so much, Mom and Dad!" he cheered happily, kneeling on his knees again as he patted the dog's head. "I don't mind having a baby brother, but a puppy's great too!"

I glanced triumphantly at Marion, the expression on her face indicating that the pup's staying. Good going, son, I thought proudly.

Just then, Oxley and Dad entered the living room each with an armful of presents. "Happy Birthday, kiddo!" Dad greeted his grandson, kissing his forehead. Ox echoed the greeting, and both of them dropped their gifts on the sofa.

"Thank you so much for the presents, Grandpa. Thanks, Ox. Lookie what I have!" The puppy barked immediately for attention.

Ox leaned forward, and announced, "Why, it's a mutt!"

My son, ever the curious one, perked his head. "A what?" he asked, abandoning the dog for a second.

"A mutt," Marion repeated, dropping to her knees to pet the dog.

"It's the opposite of a purebred," my dad clarified, taking the puppy into his hands. "For example, I know a person who is half-Japanese, half-American. That sort of thing."

Henry's eyes widened. "Mutt? It's like being unique, right?"

"Yes."

He grinned. "Okay then! Call me Mutt, Grandpa!"

Four adults were staggered at his announcement. "What do you mean, honey?" Marion asked, throwing me a look that promise instant death.

"I don't like the name Henry. I want to change it." Henry, er, Mutt, glanced at my father apologetically. "Sorry, Grandpa. But don't worry, the name is better on you. Mutt just sounds so cool!" He smiled. "My name is Mutt."

After that, he bounded off outside to play with his new friend.

We all sat silent in the living room.

Then:

"He'll outgrow it," Oxley said with certainty.

Dad looked at him wryly, then at my direction. "You sure?"

"…or not."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…Jones."

I gulped. "Yes, honey?"

Ox and Dad waited. They knew to keep quiet whenever Marion acts like this. In fact, they rather enjoyed seeing me get kicked in the ass by my wife.

Marion was calm, which is a whole lot scarier than when she's going berserk. She stood up, a resigned and somewhat amused expression on her face. "Like father, like son," she said, shaking her head. "I can't believe it he chose a dog's name."

I smirked. "He **is** my son," I said smugly.

"Are you going to deflate your ego, or do you want me to do the honors?"

"…I'll shut up now."

All in all, we celebrated Mutt's birthday happily. Dad was sad that nobody likes his name. Ox was amused by the events. Mutt was happy. He got a puppy, a new name and tons of present. I was happy I didn't get abused by a pan. Marion is learning to accept that, yeah, Mutt is just like me. Too much like me, she says.

Well, like father, like son, babe.

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PS.** I so love the reviews in the previous chapters, people! Thanks so much! This chapter took me three days or so, because I was busy with school. Hope you guys like this! The next chapter's going to be fun and sweet! Tune in!

**THANKS TO:** _**noukinav018, Kat1021, cupid007, rabid-squirell-3, Ellen, PhantomProducer, Brittaney,**_ and _**Padawan Jan-AQ**_ for the great reviews! Love you all!


	4. Puppy Madness

**AN:** Cheers for Mommy Power! More specifically, Marion Power! Hooray for her ability to see the uncanny happenings of the future (or maybe she's just plan smart). I don't own her or Indiana or Mutt.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**I Told You So. But Did You Listen? Noooo."**

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"Mutt! Get it! Grab it!"

"You grab it, Dad! It's not that easy—oof!"

"Get it! _Get it!"_

"I am **trying**!"

_Woof. Woof. Woof._

"Okay, you go left, and I'll go the opposite side."

"Sure, Dad."

"On three. One… two— hey! I'm not done counting!"

"He's 'scaping, Dad!" came the hysterical answer.

"You little, scamper. Come here—whoops!"

_CRASH._

Marion's favorite vase lay into a hundred pieces on the floor. Indy and Mutt looked at each other. "We are so dead," Mutt said a matter-of-factly.

"I know—"

"HENRY JONES JUNIOR! HENRY JONES THE THIRD! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?"

Indy gulped, then looked at the puppy he bought Mutt with narrow eyes. "This is all your fault," he said.

The dog simply grinned a doggy grin.

**X**

Last night, Marion was curled against her husband, his muscular arm wrapped around her waist as she slept. But when she woke up, Indy wasn't there. She yawned as she stretched, listening for any sounds coming from the men in her life.

_CRASH._

Marion stilled, waited a beat, and then bellowed on top of her lungs:

"HENRY JONES JUNIOR! HENRY JONES THE THIRD! WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?"

**X**

Toilet paper. Rolls of tissue paper were scattered around the house… in every part of the house, even the kitchen. Mud prints decorated the usually spotless floor, taunting her to get a mop and push it down her husband's throat.

"It looks worse than it is," Indy managed to squeak, fidgeting. "I promise Mutt and I will clean it all up."

"Yeah, Mom," Mutt piped in, eyeing his mother with guarded eyes. The puppy, which he had christened Sparky, was wagging his tail, looking innocent. "Please don't get mad. We were trying to clean the mud, but Sparky ran away with the tissue." He glanced miserably at the puppy.

Marion's heart melted. She ruffled her son's hair. "I'm not mad, honey." Then she turned to Jones, who was grinning weakly. She sighed. "I told you so. But did you listen? Noooo…" That's when she noticed the broken vase.

Her favorite vase.

Her favorite **broken** vase.

"Jones…" Her voice held a warning.

_Woof. Woof._

The puppy launched itself into a run, and Mutt cried out in vain, "Catch him, Dad! He's going for the pitcher of milk—"

_Splash._

Magnificent. Milk, mud and toilet paper. What a combination.

Indy smiled at Marion, who was looking exasperated and irritated by everything that is happening. "You will help us, right?" he dared ask.

"I thought you'll take responsibility of the puppy, since you bought it."

"Marion… please…?" He gave his most charming smiles.

Marion rolled her eyes. "Oh, just shut up and get the mop."

Indy leaned and kissed her on the lips. "How would we survive without you?" he murmured.

Marion smiled. "Believe me, Indy. You won't."

**PS.** Shorter than chapter number three, but it was so fun to write. I really loved it! Thanks for the reviews, guys! This story is easier to update, because the oneshots are shorter than the chapters of _**Idiot to Love**_. Hope you guys bear with me for the slow update.


	5. Letting Go

**AN:** Every parent has a hard time seeing their kids grow up and live their own life. This oneshot is an example. It's bugging me for a while, and I just had to write it. I don't own anything!

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**Our Baby's All Grown Up."**

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An excited Mutt burst through the door, with Marion following behind him. "Dad! Dad!" Mutt shouted, dropping his backpack on the floor. "Where are you!"

"I'm in the kitchen," came Indy's answer.

Mutt immediately followed the voice, his four-and-a-half year old body bounding away. He spotted his father reading the newspaper, and he yelled, "Dad! Dad! Guess what!" Mutt tugged Indy's shirt, crawling onto his lap.

Indiana looked up at Marion as she entered the kitchen. She dropped a kiss on his lips, to which Mutt responded as any little boy would when he saw his parents all lovey-dovey.

"Eww. You guys are so gross!" Mutt began making gagging sounds.

Marion lifted her head with a grin. Indy shook his head as he transferred his attention back at his son. "What's up, son?" he asked.

"I'm going to school!" Mutt crowed cheerfully. "Mom and I searched for a kindergarten class, and I'm going to school next Monday." The little boy danced on his feet, looking every bit pleased.

Indy looked at Marion. "He is?"

She nodded. "Yeah. I found a really nice school near your Oxley's place. He can stay there right after school, and then we'll pick him up in the afternoon."

Mutt jumped to his feet and immediately raced to the phone, yelling, "I'm going to call Josh right now."

Silence.

Just as Marion was about to speak, she heard a sound. A sniffling sound. Her eyes wide, she looked at Indy and found him… crying. Jaw slightly opened, she approached Indy and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, what's wrong? Why—are you **crying**?" There was wonder in her voice, as well as confusion and surprise.

Indy mopped his face quickly and shook his head. "Am not crying," he muttered, sniffling. "I just got something in my eye." He rubbed his eyes.

Marion rolled her eyes. "God, Indy. That's the lamest excuse invented in the entire history of excuses invented."

Indy snorted, but his eyes were still teary.

Silence.

Then:

"Our baby's all grown up." Sniff. "And I don't want to lose him yet." Sniff, sniff. Blow. "He's still so small, and yet he's now entering preschool." Sniff.

And without any warning, Indy… cried. No, bawled like a baby.

Marion comforted him that day, saying that everything will be all right. But a smile stayed with her for the rest of the day.

Now who'd have thought that underneath that tough exterior, Indy was still a soft-hearted father? That was so damn funny, but at the same time, sweet.

Stupid Indy.


	6. Oh, Shit! My Bad

**AN:** I am so sorry for the late updates nowadays. Although it is summer and school is out, I'm kind of looking for a summer job. Need cash. Haha. Anyway, I love this chapter. I find it hilarious. Nope… no way. Am not going to spoil it. You just have to read on. :) Standard disclaimers apply here, people.

**WARNING:** Minor cuss words are present.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**The Word 'Shit' Means Poop, Mutt."**

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"Oh, shit!

Mutt looked up from his coloring book. His father was grumbling about one of his students drawing hearts and flower doodles on his How to Learn Hieroglyphics book. Hieroglyphics was the ABC of Egyptians, Mutt was told. He even searched the word in his dictionary Grandpa Henry gave him.

Mutt toddled towards his dictionary on the table and opened it. He turned the pages until he landed where the words starting with the letter 's' are found.

A few minutes later: "Dad?"

Indy looked up from his text book, a pen wedged behind his ear. "Yeah, Mutt?"

Mutt was frowning as he approached his father. "What does shit mean?" he asked unknowingly, scratching his head. "I searched and I searched the dictionary for it's meaning, but nothing came up."

"…"

Mutt waited patiently for his father's reply.

"…" Indy was speechless.

"…Dad?" Mutt said, poking his father's knee. "Why aren't you answering?"

Indy had turned pale. Paler than pale. He gulped and looked around. Good. Marion wasn't there. She'd have his head off in a minute. He should've watched his mouth whenever he cusses. Mutt catches on pretty quickly for a four-year-old, and he already knows how to use the dictionary. Courtesy of Indy, his father and Oxley.

"Um…" Indy cleared his throat. He didn't want his son to think he was uttering cuss words freely. He didn't want to set a bad example. "Okay. The word 'shit' means poop, Mutt." Which was technically true.

Mutt's eyebrows burrowed in the middle. "Poop? As in Sparky's poop?" He looked around. "But there aren't any poop in here at all."

Indy thought fast. "I thought I saw a brown mass on the floor somewhere."

"Oh. Okay." Mutt bounded outside. "I'll tell Sparky to poop outside if he needs to."

Indy sighed with relief. Now that was one ordeal he went through without a hitch. This father business is sure hard. Now this little problem is over…

**X**

…or not.

They were eating dinner that night. All three of them. Indiana, Marion and Mutt. A family. Sparky was barking his head off when he suddenly turned silent. Mutt glanced at him and groaned.

"Aww. Sparky! I can't believe you pooped here!" he said exasperatedly, as he hopped down his chair. "Now I've got to clean your shit."

Marion's fork clattered on the table. She stared at her son as he fetched some newspapers. "Mutt," she said rather sternly, "what did you just say?"

Mutt looked up from the mess Sparky made and replied. "Shit, Mommy. I said shit."

Marion gaped at him in horror. Beside her, Indy was praying to all that's holy that he will disappear. Marion stood up and approached him. "Are you aware, honey, that… 'shit' is a bad word?" she asked him calmly, but the nerve throbbing on her temple betrayed her.

Mutt looked at her in astonishment. "Bad? But Daddy said…" He looked at his father who smiled weakly.

"Yes?" Marion said, her voice coated with sugary sweetness. "What did Daddy say?"

Indy was still praying and sweating.

"Daddy said that the word 'shit' means 'poop'," he said with a frown. "Sparky's shit."

"Honey," Marion said, patting his head, "that word is a bad word. And Mommy will be angry if you ever repeat that word again. I don't want you to go out and say that word, okay? Not all words are okay to use. You can just say that Sparky's poop. Now, that is **much** better."

Mutt smiled. "Okay, Mommy."

Marion gave him a smile. "Good. Now go and clean this mess and you can go to your room."

"I'm not going to clean the table? It's my turn."

"No. I'm giving you a time off. That way, your father and I could be alone."

"Yay! Oh, goody!"

When Mutt retired to his room, Indy's heart was pounding. "I didn't mean to Marion," he pleaded. "The boy just heard me when I cussed. It was an accident!"

Marion gave him her famous Death of Glare. "You should be more careful whenever you cuss, you know?" she told him evenly. "Your punishment?"

"Yes?" Indy's voice was small.

"No bedroom action for a week."

"NOOO!"

Marion smiled and kissed him on the lips. "Your fault, babe," she said mischievously. "Live with it."

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PS.** Indy is so whipped when it comes to Marion. Only when it comes to Marion and being a parent. I enjoyed making this fic. It was so friggin' funny for me to make. Hope you guys liked it! You can now press the button in the below this paragraph… (Hint! Hint!) Thanks for reading, people! :)


	7. Boogie Man

**AN:** This is short. Really short. Oh, and _**Ellen**_, I've got about twenty more Mutt ideas for this fic, so don't worry about it. :) I didn't mean to make an impression that the last chapter was **the** last chapter. Haha. Oh, yeah. Your idea about Indy getting sick and Mutt taking care of him? Well, I'm going to make it after the next chapter. :) Hope you like this one!

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**Mommy? Daddy? Can I Stay With You?"**

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The hallway seemed so darn long.

A pajama-clad Mutt made his way slowly, trying not to lose his nerve and run back to his room. But that was even scarier. All alone in his room, where the boogie man awaits him…

Mutt was clutching his teddy bear and blanket to his chest, eyeing the door where his parents were residing. "Okay, Mutt," he whispered to himself bravely. "Only a few more doors…"

_BAM!_

Mutt jumped about two-feet in the air, and ran towards his parents' room, screaming. "Moooooommmmmyyyy! Daaaaaaddddddyyyy!" He quickly opened the door and jumped on the soft bed, startling Marion, who was now awake due to the commotion his son made.

"Mutt?" Hugging a shivering boy against her bosom, Marion kissed her son's forehead. "What's wrong, honey?"

"The boogie man," he said, trying not to cry. He was a big boy now. "I heard him in the hallway, and—where's Daddy?" Mutt noticed that his father wasn't there beside his Mom, cuddling or whatever.

"He's outside—"

"The boogie man got Daddy! The boogie man got Daddy!"

Marion was fighting the urge to laugh and sigh, and she stroked Mutt's hair, trying to calm him down. "Honey, your dad's gone—"

The door opened. "Mutt?" Indy's bewildered voice said. He approached mother and son and sat by the bed. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be at bed?"

"He thought you were caught by the boogie man," Marion clarified, wiping Mutt's tears away. She kissed his forehead again. "Oh, honey. See? Daddy's alive. If Nazis and bullets aren't enough to kill him, what can a boogie man do?"

"But what's the sound?"

"Sound?" The quizzical brow on Indy's face disappeared. "Sorry about that. I accidentally slammed the bathroom door."

Mutt sat up straighter. "So there's no boogie man?" he wanted to know.

"None."

Mutt relaxed. Then: "Mommy? Daddy? Can I stay with you?"

Marion smiled at Indy, who grinned and tossed Mutt in the air, emitting an excited squeal from him. "Sure thing, kiddo," he said, tucking him between him and Marion. "And don't worry about boogie mans. Your mom and dad will scare them off."

Mutt smiled serenely. "I know. I love you both."

Marion smiled and closed the lamp. "Good night, you two. It's late."

"Yes, yes."

"'Night."

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PS.** Cute? Haha. Review are so welcomed. Haha.


	8. The Truth

**AN:** This chapter should've been uploaded last June. But, lo behold, our computer broke down. All my files nearly got deleted (well, some were), so I had to start all over again.

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**Oh, Daddy, You're Such a Liar."**

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"Jones, tell him."

Panic. "But—"

"He's asking about your Fedora hat, the bullwhip and a bunch of other things. You have to tell him."

"We can simply tell him that it was for a Halloween costume party—"

Eyes flashing. "Are you telling me we should **lie** to our son, Jones?"

Gulps. "No, no, no! Of course not! I wouldn't dream of—"

"Good. Because you'll tell him the truth and nothing but the truth."

Sighs.

**X**

Indiana Jones patted the seat beside him. Mutt plops down and looked at his Dad eagerly.

"Mom said that you are going to tell me a story," he said, his eyes shining excitedly.

"Yeah, sort of," Indy said nervously, loosening his collar. "Are you ready to hear it?"

Mutt nodded eagerly.

"Okay. It all started with your Grandpa Henry…"

**X**

Mutt was looking at him with wide eyes. Indy was relieved. Looks like his son took everything nicely. No hysterical reactions or anything. Good.

The boy scratched his head. "Okay, Dad," he said, frowning slightly. "When you were little, you visited Cairo in Egypt. Saw huge pyramids. Right?"

"Yeah."

"You even visited Paris, France."

"Yeah."

"And Florence and a whole lot of places."

"Yeah."

"You were even invited to tea with Sir Arthur Conan Foyle."

"Um, it's Doyle."

"Right. And you and your tutor, Ms. Helen, got trapped in Titanic and nearly died."

"Yeah."

"And then you met Mom and left her."

"Yeah. It wasn't something to be proud of, Mutt."

"Then you met her again in Nepal, battled German people—"

"Nazis," Indy corrected.

"Nazis, yeah, them. Then got shot. Met a monkey, which Mom loved, and then she got kidnapped and you thought she died when the huge truck got blown up. Then you discovered the Ark of the Covenant, got locked in a cave with hundreds and hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of snakes and nearly got karate-chopped by a huge man."

"Correct." Indy beamed.

"…"

Then Mutt began to laugh. "Oh, Daddy," he said, jumping towards him to give him a hug. "You're such a liar! Nice story, though!"

And left the room.

Indy gave a sigh.

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PS:** This one amused me to no end, but I think I narrated it wrong. It felt wrong. Anyway, hope you guys like it! Please review. :) Thanks for reading!


	9. Mothers Know Best

**AN:** This is short. Really short. But cute. :) I own nothing, people!

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_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**... glasses, gun. Okay! Don't get killed"**

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"Moooom!" Mutt yelled, thundering down the stairs with Sparky chasing after him. "I'm going out with my friends. We're going to rollerblade at the park, okay?"

"Marion!" Indy shouted, frantically hauling his case. "Marcus called me! I'm needed at the college now. I'll be back by dinner."

When both males reached the front door at the same time, Marion appeared from the kitchen and placed her hands on her hips. "Hold it!"

Mutt and Indy literally froze at the sound of the only female Jones in the household. She walked towards them and kissed Mutt's forehead. She leaned back and observed her son in scrutiny. "Helmet, kneepads, elbow pads, goggles. Okay! Go have fun!"

Mutt shrugged and ran out off the door as fast as his legs could carry him.

Marion turned her eyes on Indy, who was staring at her in awe. She simply smiled and said, "Hmm. I can see you got your bullwhip, your stupid hat that won't ever disappear, glasses, gun. Okay! Don't get killed!" she said, kissing him on the lips before letting him go on his way. "And make sure you actually arrive for dinner on time," she added.

Indy shook his head. "This must be the reasons why I love her," he muttered to himself.


	10. Happy Halloween!

**AN:** This was inspired by an episode from Criminal Minds. Guess which one. :) I am really sorry it took this long to finish. Heck, just one chapter. Personal problems. Anyway, thanks for the support, loves. I'll try to find the time to do another IJ fic because this fandom has never really left my life, but no promises. You guys all rock.

_**Oh, Little Mutt**_

"**Look, Daddy. I'm you."**

It was Halloween. Pumpkins were everywhere; fake spider webs and witches on broomsticks were hung on houses and candies were sitting in colorful bowls, waiting to be given out.

In the living room, Marion opened a pack of chocolates that came in from Ox (who was currently in an unknown country) and placed them in the bowls. Indy was sitting at the foot of the staircase at the hallway, a pamphlet in hand about new findings about dinosaur bones.

The clock struck six, and Marion peeped around the doorway and addressed Indy, "Sweetie, where's Mutt? Shouldn't you get going? All the good candies will be taken if you don't go now."

Indy looked up and frowned slightly. "Hmm. Well, he told me he was preparing his costume and that he wanted to dress up by himself."

Marion rolled her eyes. "But he started preparing an hour ago. How long does it take to wear a zombie costume?"

Indy stood up and dropped a kiss on her mouth. "Okay, okay. I'll check up on him." He turned to the direction of the stairs and yelled, "Hey, Mutt! You okay up there?"

"Yes! No one should come up, okay?" came his son's yell.

Marion shook her head and disappeared in the living room. "Okay. Do you need help, buddy?" Indy yelled back. "You're taking an awful long time in getting ready."

"No. I'm fine! I'm nearly done, dad!" came the little boy's response.

Shrugging, Indy went in the living room. "He said he didn't need any help," he told Marion.

Marion opened her mouth to reply but a sound behind them had them turning around. Indy gaped and stared.

Mutt was grinning from ear to ear in a very un-zombie like apparel. The little tyke was wearing jeans, a polo shirt, a fedora hat and was carrying a bullwhip in his right hand. "Look, Daddy! I'm you!" Mutt declared proudly, a wide smile on his face.

Marion covered her mouth and glanced at Indy, who was too choked up to speak. A second later, he cleared his throat and asked his son huskily, "Why are you going as me, buddy? I thought you wanted to be a zombie?"

"I did," Mutt bobbed his head, "but then I wanted to be a superhero. And I wanted to be a real superhero. That is why I'm you, Daddy. 'Cause you're a real superhero-oof!" Mutt let out a squeal when Indy swopped down and gave him a bear hug.

Marion smiled at her two boys and joined them. "Hey, you two. It's candy getting time. Move." She bestowed a kiss on Mutt's cheek and grinned at Indy. "Be home by eight-thirty, okay? We'll have dinner."

"Okay, Mommy," Mutt replied with a grin. He wriggled out of Indy's embrace and onto his feet. "I'mma get my pumpkin bag to put my candies in." And he ran out of the room.

Indy tugged Marion in his arms and kissed her on the lips. "I love you. I love him. I love our family," he murmured against her lips. "Thank you."

Marion grinned and kissed him. "Right back at you, Indy."


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